


Serious

by tomvorlost (manxeau)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Christmas, F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-01
Updated: 2015-12-01
Packaged: 2018-05-04 06:46:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5324468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/manxeau/pseuds/tomvorlost
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hermione and Draco wake up together with a first shared Christmas Day at Malfoy Manor awaiting them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Serious

She is woken up by a small sunbeam piercing through that gap in her curtains that she never manages to close completely. She covers her face with her hands, feels her eyelashes laying on her skin and brushes over her lids.  
This day. Why is the sun shining? It is winter, it should rain or snow from a grey sky. Instead, the sky is mostly blue, the sun melting a small layer of white on the ground. The marks of a night slightly below zero will be washed away within the hour. Her gaze is travelling over the row of houses she can see from her bedroom window. As always, her neighbour’s Christmas lights are blinking in the morning still. 

“How long have you been up?” A tired voice from behind her, half-buried under the pillow. 

He is perfectly camouflaged between white sheets and under the pillow, his pillow. White-blond hair and skin so light it barely even contrasts the linen. 

“Not long. It’s early; you can sleep more if you want.” 

Their plans for the day don’t need them to be up before 10. Then they’ll get ready, pack their gifts and apparate to Wiltshire. Hermione is planning to be five minutes early, planning to look sophisticated but not dressed up, planning to be polite but not too amicable. 

“Thinking too much again, Hermione”, his muffled murmur sounds happy. 

“You can see that – what is it today? In my eyebrows, the lines next to my mouth? Anyways, most people tend to think _something_ most of the time. Just admiring Lindsay’s colourful decorations right now.” Her arms are folded over her chest only in mock-defensiveness and they both know it. 

He has peeled himself from his cocoon, stands behind her and hugs her crossed arms away, sliding his hands under her upper arms. His fingers are laying still on the sides of her breasts over her soft shirt. “You’ve met them quite a few times now. They don’t hate you.” After a small snort from her he adds: “According to circumstances that’s the best I could’ve hoped for. For now.”

“Yeah, I know.” She leans back into him and smiles reluctantly. They’ve had this conversation at least five times since this years’ Christmas plans had been settled. “My head is fine, too. I really did expect to regret the masses of mulled wine bitterly.” 

Harry had poured in excess yesterday and she wasn’t used to much alcohol. He had hosted their Christmas Eve tradition this year and made his famous blend of mulled wine. They would spend the evening before Christmas with friends, exchange their Secret Santa gifts and enjoy the festive atmosphere that was mostly due to Luna and Blaise.  
No matter who hosted the night, they were in charge of decorations and music. Neville had recently enforced his right to be free of Christmas Carol’s on the 24th outside of the actual celebration, since Luna wasn’t ready to spare him on any other day during advent either. Blaise’s enormous decorations during Christmas were always red and gold, shiny and very classy. 

They have been doing this for five years now, since the first Christmas after their repeated 7th year. Luna had surprised them all with her invitation when she had initiated the tradition. Both Harry and Ginny, as well as Ron and her had recently split up when the delicately designed cards had arrived, the atmosphere in their small circle uncomfortable already. That Blaise, Theo, Pansy, Daphne and Draco had been invited, too, was a piece of information Luna had held back as long as possible.  
The group of ten had had two hours of frozen introductions, Luna and Neville mediating between Harry, Ron, Ginny, Hermione and the Slytherins. Luna was working with Daphne in journalism and Theo worked for a company that supplied potions’ and herbology equipment to Neville, who had just come up with his small start-up at the time. 

Hermione had suspected Luna for meddling with everyone’s drinks, as just after 10 the tune had changed. More and more laughter, relaxed positions and small smiles fostered. Only a few months ago Pansy had admitted that it was her, who had spiked the punch with large amounts of firewhiskey. 

Their circle had grown just a bit since then, as Ron had brought Lavender as his partner at the third gathering. Invited every single time, Draco hadn’t attended until last year, when he had already been seeing her unofficially. 

By now they were interwoven completely, comfortable with each other and having monthly meet-ups, December being the year’s highlight. 

And most likely, they would soon integrate even further. Hermione had had an interesting discussion with Luna a few weeks back at Theo and Daphne’s wedding. With Neville and Draco bickering at each other at the bar and Ginny and Harry off to dance, the two of them had eyed the proceedings on the dancefloor vigilantly. Luna said she expected that within the first half of the New Year, Ginny and Blaise would confess to their not so secret relationship, and something would happen between Harry and Pansy because of… some moonsniver or other. Whatever it was, Hermione absolutely agreed. The tension was too much to handle. 

Draco is clapping his fingers against her now, impatient. 

“Hm?” She’s almost certain she has heard his voice just a second ago. 

“I asked whether you want to open presents now, or at the Manor later? What’s the plan?” He stretches, makes his little sounds, ruffles his hair.

“I… maybe when we come back?” She turns to look at him. 

His eyes widen, eyebrows raised. “You want to have me wait _how many_ more hours until I can have my presents?” Then he pushes out a short row of laughter. “Sounds good. Something to look forward to during the dark hours to come, huh?”

“Exactly.” She steps past him, grabbing a large cardigan from the hanger and moves into the kitchen. 

Hermione and Draco had been a few months into their jobs at the ministry, which they had both taken right out of Hogwarts. They had been nothing but distant colleagues when Draco had made the most _insufferable_ joke about this admittedly horrible gentleman from the third floor. Right in the man’s face, who hadn’t even noticed a thing. Hermione was sure it was an appropriate reprimand that she had been preparing to utter, when a small snort of laughter had escaped her. Draco’s smirk had been at its best. Or rather, worst. 

They had continued to run into each other, had shared more and more moments of eyes meeting in agreement, in shared amusement, in bored annoyance. They talked and understood each other, having fewer breaks and hiccups of clashing mannerisms, misunderstandings and unfamiliarity than Hermione had ever experienced with a _new person_ before. The space between them had shrunken. From former enemies, who were at opposite sides of the elevator, aware of each other, ready to counter-attack at all times - to almost-friends, who shared moments, small touches and opinions with each other. Who visited each other in their offices, had lunch in the canteen from time to time or a sandwich at Hermione’s favourite muggle-diner close to the ministry. 

The idea of almost-friends had shattered to pieces, when Draco had finished his response to her question one day. A well thought-out response, which had made perfect sense. She had already begun to decipher the different varieties of his smiles at that point, and he had smiled one of the rare ones in that moment. Relaxed, waiting for her arguments, open. She hadn’t had any arguments for him. Instead she had stepped forward, moving fast into his personal space. Even though the barriers between them had been lessened already, standing so close to the other that you could only get macro-shots of their face wasn’t normal yet. A curved wing of the nose, an eyebrow, a crinkled corner of the eye. But Hermione hadn’t stopped. She had steadied herself with her hands against his head and pressed her mouth to his. It wasn’t a skilful kiss at all, mouth hard and taking in one moment, open, soft and pleading the next and back again. But she had pressed on and on, pushing him into his office door with the full force of her body. He had merely leaned on that door before. She hadn’t been completely aware of his arms closing around her waist, his teeth biting her lower lip. 

Their office-meeting had ended with a “Will you have lunch with me tomorrow?” from Draco. They were having lunch together almost every day anyway, but from then on they weren’t almost friends anymore. They were openly flirting over sandwiches, making out tamely in offices, meeting in their flats after hours. 

It had been New Year’s Day when Hermione had admitted that she had spilled the news in front of Luna and Ginny the night before. Draco had slowly conceded that Blaise and Theo had known for a while and that he had prepared his parents to expect an open courting soon on Christmas Day. 

This year, the four of them would celebrate the day together. 

Draco was sitting on his usual seat in her kitchen and chopping some apples to add to his cereal. His legs were stretched out, feet poking out at the other side of the table, his arms propped up on the table top. Hermione’s flat was fairly comfortable, but not nearly as luxurious as Draco’s. Still, they spend most of their time together here, in a place much smaller and less stylish. 

“Can you hand me the yogurt?” comes his request right when she expects it, shortly after he has shoved the apple-pieces into the bowl. 

“Mhm.” The package is already in her hands.

*****

The grass under their feet is sloppy with sloshy water of melted snow on cold ground. She has an array of critically acclaimed literature under her arm and Draco carries separate boxes of wine and cigars. Apparently, that’s what Malfoy’s get each other for Christmas. According to Draco, she is to expect mostly scientific reading and some classic literature from Narcissa and Lucius for herself, a set of designer robes and an assortment of books for him.

The walk up to the Manor is shorter than usual and Hermione counts her steps, just as she did the first time she came here after the war. Not even a year ago. Her heart doesn’t beat as fast as it did then, her steps aren’t as painfully cautious. But it still is a fast heartbeat and a wary walk towards the main entrance. 

Narcissa is greeting them in the entrance hall, her ice-blue turtle-neck feeling soft from afar, a small smile on her lips. She exchanges a tight embrace with Draco and touches Hermione’s arm respectfully. “Merry Christmas to you both.” 

They are lead into a sitting room, where Lucius is standing facing an open fire with his back towards them. He turns and nods. Extends his arm to Hermione, “Miss Granger” – “Mister Malfoy”. Draco’s and Narcissa’s eyes meeting would have been a shared eye-roll in any other family. But, as Draco claims again and again, Lucius just doesn’t do first names with anyone but his immediate family. 

Draco returns to her side for the walk to the dining room, touches her hair lightly and initiates an exchanged smile. The two couples sit down across from each other on a large table and Hermione squeezes Draco’s hand only for a few seconds until she straightens herself and engages Lucius in a conversation about some of her work that he has is far-reaching hands in as well.

They eat and Hermione feels a pain in her neck coming from all the stiff sitting she is doing. It seems the Malfoys are more used to proper sitting positions than she is. She is just wondering how many years of eating breakfast with a straight back it takes to look almost natural in this, when her thoughts are interrupted. 

“Hermione, would you like to go for a small walk with me? I always like to enjoy the garden after a meal like this.” Narcissa is getting up out of her chair and waits on her response. 

Hermione nods, unsure. “Yes, of course.”

“I was about as old as you and Draco are now, when my parents died.” 

Hermione can’t help herself and whips her head around in a startled response. After the first quiet minutes of their walk, they are now a few hundred metres from the main house and this is not the introduction to conversation she has expected. 

Narcissa smiles an understanding but sad smile. “They were… very important to me, but that is a complicated story I don’t want to lay out for you today.” She leaves a small silence to indicate the closure of this topic, Hermione nods. 

“Lucius’ parents didn’t die quite as early, but they were never part of this day for our family since Draco was born. Neither were his aunts or uncles.” Narcissa’s eyes wander over the beginnings of a forest in the distance. “And it is not just this day. Our family has always been very tightly knit, the three of us.” 

And now Narcissa turns her head, fixes her gaze on Hermione. “I can’t remember the last time someone else was with us on Christmas Day.” 

Hermione angles her torso left and away from the other woman, just slightly narrows her eyes and doesn’t respond quickly. 

Narcissa shakes her head fast, two times. “I didn’t mean this the way you obviously understood me. This is new, unusual. But not unwelcome. Frankly, I’m surprised. I expected… I didn’t think Draco would enter into a serious relationship quite so soon after... his graduation.”

Hermione wants to be done with a neutral, but slightly abrasive “Well, he did.” But that won’t do. “I hope that you will continue to accept this, because it _is_ a serious relationship.”

Narcissa nods. “I know my son, Hermione. I know that he is very serious about you, I’ve known for a year. At the least.”

Hermione is sure Narcissa wants her to ask about that afterthought, but she doesn’t feel like doing the woman that favour and stays silent. 

Narcissa’s smile is almost approving when Hermione catches it from the corner of her eye. 

When they return inside, Narcissa leads her through a few corridors until they enter a large living-room with a Christmas tree that would make Blaise proud. There are various presents arranged underneath, including the ones she and Draco have brought and handed over to an important-looking house-elf when they first arrived. Draco and Lucius are seated on large arm chairs positioned around the tree; Hermione lets herself sink into the one between father and son, giving Lucius a small smile. 

Narcissa doesn’t follow her example but sits down on a white carpet between them and the presents. Hermione’s eyes widen but her search for a response from Lucius or Draco goes without result. This seems to be a normal occurrence and Hermione can just imagine a young Draco on the floor with her, slowly growing up and one day claiming a chair next to his father, while his mother still remains in a position to administer the presents according to her plans. 

The gift-exchange goes much as advertised by Draco until Hermione opens her last present, which is distinctly less square and hard in its wrapping than the previous ones were. The heavy scarf that she discovers pleases her eyes with a stunning berry colour. 

Narcissa looks up at her with her head tilted slightly and Lucius’ crinkled eyes are gazing at his hands. 

Narcissa soon joins them on the arm chairs and they have a few more cups of tea shared in a comfortable silence, which is broken unfrequently by either Draco or Narcissa, reminding each other of some Christmas-related incidents. Just like her, Lucius watches and listens but doesn’t comment except for small signs of amusement flitting over his features.

*****

“Are… do you think them cold?” He stares past her by just a few centimetres.

“Not like I expected and… No, I don’t think they are. Formal, they’re formal. But not cold.”

She closes the distance between them, grasps his shoulder-blade with one hand and his neck with the other. Her nose is cold on his neck and she amends this with her mouth instantly, then lays her head down on his shoulder and watches him swallow when she says: “So I learned from your mother today, that you are very serious about me.”

**Author's Note:**

> This was written in response to the day of festive prompts at dhrfaves on tumblr.


End file.
